So there’s something wrong with our smoke alarm system, such that the smoke detector at the top of the stairs (adjacent to my office) emits a high pitched, highly annoying beeping noise at regular intervals. I just went downstairs to ask Tom about it. Tom is our comptroller but he also deals with physical plant stuff. He is old as dirt and one of the biggest curmudgeons I’ve ever met--as in, he can say "Bah humbug" and it sounds perfectly natural. He also adores me.
Me: Tom, at the top of the stairs…
Tom: Yes Travis. We know.
Me: It’s just that it’s annoying.
Tom: Yes Travis. We know.
Me: Do we have any idea of when it will be fixed?
Tom: The guy is coming out tomorrow.
Me: Well, thank god.
Tom: Of course, there’s no telling if he’ll be able to fix it tomorrow.
Me: Tom, it’s so fucking annoying.
Tom stares at me.
Me: It’s fucking annoying Tom!! I swear to you—I’m gonna blow my brains out if I have to work with that for much longer.
Tom: Oh Travis. You’re always saying that. One day I’m just going to bring you the gun.
Me: Sigh.
Tom: At least you should feel protected. If there’s a fire, you know it’s working.
Me: Okay, I’ll try to look at the bright side. You know that doesn’t come naturally to me.
Tom: You’re a jewel Travis.
Me, having not heard: Huh?
Tom: You’re just a jewel.
No comments:
Post a Comment